Psycho Psychology
by J.R. Jones
Summary: “You all look at me as a psychopath. But when everything is laid out before us, we all can go a bit Looney. You all are insane; you just don’t know it yet.” Joker in Arkham The fun begins with an escape. But the story begins with a blast.
1. Anarchy meets Arkham

Chapter 1

**Anarchy meets Arkham**

Two sets of eyes peered through the two way mirror into the dimly lit examination room. They stared deep into the eyes of pure insanity. It had been four months since he had been captured and thrown into Arkham. Yet, he still had that sinister smirk upon his scared tan face.

"I see you don't allow him to wear the makeup anymore?" A young blond psychiatrist asked as she lowered her glasses down her nose to look into Jeremiah Arkham's dark foreboding eyes. He quickly turned his head and stared in her crystal blue eyes with a certainty.

"Let's just say it's to prevent any such indication that a man such as him can have whatever he pleases." He stopped and returned a look of dismay and warning to the beautiful blond. "Dr. Quinzel, if I may. This is not a man you want to toy around with."

Dr. Harleen Quinzel was a woman of intelligence and pride. Being one of the only women listed in the top ten best psychiatrists on the east coast, so she had to have both attributes to make it this far in her work. She had examined many 'psychos' in the six years she had this job. None ever scaring or intimidating her to the slightest bit. She truly was an expert in the field of psychotic analysis.

"Please save the lectures, Warden. I'm perfectly capable of handling men such as this. Which is why I was sent over here by Judge Matthews himself; now may I see the inmate please?"

He stared back as if he was befuddled by her aggressive nature and careless attitude towards the infamous patient. "Surly. Be sure to remember Lt. Jefferies security protocol. No sharp objects; paper clips, pens, pencils, or hair clips. You're allowed a recorder only and you may record your thoughts after your examinations."

"I'll be sure to do that." She said, nodding to his words. He looked away and gave a worried look back. This was a very tense moment for the warden. The man in that room had already killed two of his guards. Just the demented stare the psychopath had sent a shiver down his body that iced his heart. A cold sweet ran down Arkham's neck as he set his eyes on the mirthful menace sitting silently in the thick metal chair; his hands cuffed to the very back. "Good luck Doctor. I'll be watching."

Dr. Quinzel turned on her heel and walked to the door. Lt. Jefferies gave her a nod of assurance as to say, _you'll be fine. _Her hand gripped the cold metal handle and turned it down. She slowly stepped into the room, her movements very calm and steady. Joker's eyes jumped to the door and the woman entering. The corners of his mouth rose slightly pushing his scared smile up causing his skin around his scars to pinch. Dr. Quinzel walked over to the long metal table and set the recorder on the table. Her thin delicate finger pressed the record button and the session began.

His eyes never left her movements. He cracked his neck slightly as she sat.

"Dr. Harleen Quinzel, I presume. Ms. PHD herself. Glad to see someone of such high importance coming to give little old me a visit."

She set her hands on the table and ignored his attempt of intimidating her. So many patients in the past had tried the same thing. She was numb to it; built up a tolerance, you might say. "I hope you know why I'm here?"

He nodded. "To look deep into my mind to find that one childhood memory that started my downfall into insanity." She looked back at him with no reaction to his words. "Not exactly, now how has your stay in Arkham affected you?"

"It's taught me to smile more." He tried to move a bit, but he failed. His arms were tense and uncomfortable. But people could care less of how comfortable the Joker was. His happiness and health were simply an after thought for many of the people of Arkham. They all felt so safe with him behind bars; thrown into a padded cell in solitary for the rest of his life. Thinking their dealings and fear of him would disappear, and they did.

She peered into his maniacal eyes and felt a chill go down her spine. He didn't show the slightest bit of aggression or anger towards anyone or her questions. Most of the time a patient would try to be strong willed and simply reply with an insult and become silent. It was oddly intriguing to the young psychiatrist. "And why is that exactly?" Joker leaned his head in and smirked. "Do you really believe that this place can crush all my aspirations?" he spoke without much thought as if he had already planned to say this.

"You all look at me as a man who is deeply demented and insane. But when everything is laid out before us, we all can go a bit Looney. You all are insane; you just don't know it yet."

Dr. Quinzel stayed as sullen as possible. Her rose red lips tightened together, as she thought of what to say next. His words and stance were very different from anyone she had ever examined. He truly was unique, compared to many of the 'psychos' she had seen and examined in the past. Silence set in shortly after. Joker leaned back in his chair, and looked deep into her eyes. Watching every twitch and movement, he was the predator and she was his prey. She fixed her small rectangular glasses on her nose and straightened her dark black blouse around her slender curves. "It's said that Insanity is merely a defect of the mind. It doesn't mean we all can't get better."

Joker rolled his neck, his greasy hair falling every which way around his face. He wrapped his rough fingers around the cuffs around his wrists. His shoulders straightened out and his arms tensed, as his chair leaned towards the table. His hair fell over his face and eyes. The gaze between the two never broke, even as Dr. Quinzel moved her hands form the table in fear of what could occur. The crystal blue eyes of hers never left the man sitting across from her, she wasn't going to back down in this therapy session. She wanted the control.

He shuffled his shoulders in the chair and nodded his head as he spoke out to the beautiful psychiatrist. "You don't get better from this doctor. You'll realize that sooner or later."

His chair fell back in place and Joker whip his hair slightly out of his eyes. Harleen set her hands back on the table and adjusted her gasses back in place. "What of your scars? How did you attain them?" She knew that this question was going to show how Joker could handle and explain himself. This truly showed the character of many scitzofrantics.

"Ya see my mother left us when I was only twelve. Oh how my heart ached… Now my father, soon after, decided that he was fed up with life, so… he slit his throat. When I found him, I could only remember what he had always told me when I was down." Joker's sinister smirk started to appear once again. His words spoken in his irregular voice patterns and rasping tone. As he went on, his eyes were illuminated with pure enjoyment in telling the story and trying to get some reaction out of the beautiful woman before him.

"To just turn my frown upside down, so that's exactly what I did. I brought my father's switchblade to the corners of my mouth and gave myself a nice little smile. And you know, it truly did work, I had never been happier."

Dr. Quinzel sighed and looked down at the metal table. Her head slowly began to shake with another sigh. Somehow she knew this story wasn't the truth. "You should really try telling the truth. Its much more-"

Joker quickly cut in. "Therapeutic? I've never seen the fun it in. In the end, I could care less what a beautiful psychiatrist like you would think of me. You don't care, like everyone else in this pathetic city, you're only here for your own personal gain. And you call me the crazy one. It's all a bad joke, but hell I'll laugh anyway." A chuckle was released from his scared and fairly deformed lips. His laughter got slightly louder as he went on with his words. "But I promise you this Dr. Quinzel. Soon enough, I'll show this city how easily it is to lose grips with your precious sanity." He leaned in, his eyes honed in to her intoxicating sapphire eyes. "And even you will realize that I'm right…. Oh, you'll see."

On the speaker Arkham's voice was heard, much like the voice of god in someway. "That's enough for today Doctor." With that, Dr. Quinzel pressed the stop button on the recorder and looked back at the mirror. She turned back and nodded to the scared criminal sitting before her. "It was a pleasure. I'll be seeing you soon." She stepped up out of her chair and headed to the door. Joker smiled and spoke out to her as her hand rested on the doorknob. "I can't wait. And be sure to say hello to the Warden for me. You'll find he's always happy to hear from me." He said with a rather loud laugh.

She exited the room and looked at Warden Arkham. She nodded and slid her hand through her hair and pushed her glasses up back in place. "Now that's an interesting one there." She walked over and grabbed her briefcase. "I'll get my first report in by tomorrow, when I come for his second examination."

Jeremiah smirked and looked at him in the room. It seemed he was still laughing to himself. "Well take good care of him and have him ready for your return."

Dr. Quinzel nodded and exited the room. Her mind racing, something about him intrigued her. She couldn't quite place her finger on it. It could have been his mind or how nonchalant he was with his words. She just couldn't be sure at that exact moment. He truly was a man of many maniacal talents, but in her eyes there was something more to him. She just knew it to be true; it was something that seemed to be lingering below the surface of this demented man's mind.


	2. Sane man in an Insane World

Chapter 2

**Sane man in an Insane  
**

Mirthful chuckles echoed from solitary cell 085 deep in the darkness of Arkham. Joker's left arm hung limp as his laughter grew louder. Grunts of pain were released from his scarred smile; the corners of his lips falling down as if pulled by large metal hooks. The dislocated shoulder was beginning to slip out of the straitjacket just as the pain had become this side of excruciating. His hand was freed, but seemed immovable form the pain. Closing his eyes, Joker took a breath and threw his dislocated left shoulder into the padded wall. A viscous crack sounded as his shoulder met with the wall. Joker threw his head back in pain and grunted audibly. He sucked in his thick layered breath with undertones of painful grunts.

Yet as his head fell back in place, the grunts of pain turned into a loud joyful laughter of maniacal enjoyment. He quickly slipped his right arm free from the straitjacket. His shoulder was inflamed red form the dislocation of his shoulder. The pain was simply an after thought for Joker at the time. He had more important things to deal with. Such as getting the attention of the watch guard, Henry Leary. A middle aged overweight night guard at Arkham, with a furious temper. Joker walked over to the door and began laughing loudly to get his attention. It seemed it was his pure joyous laughter that irritated the young guard the most. The plan soon played into the Joker's hand as Leary made his way down to Joker's cell; rubbing his eyes from just awakening to the sounds of Joker's laughter.

"Shut your god damn mouth, you freak." He said looking into the shadows of the solitary room. His eyes searching for patient number 913. Joker stood to the side of the room, hidden in the darkness, breathing slowly. He gripped the straitjacket in his hand, bending a piece of metal back from one of the harnesses. The edge of the metal coming to a sharp shining tip. The corners of his gruesome smile growing larger by the second. "Oh come now Mr. Leary we both know I can't help myself. This is the funniest part of my little old day." Leary grasped the handle to his nightstick. "I'll come in and shut that insane mouth of yours. Just like I did last week." Leary's knuckles turned pure white as he tightened his grip around the black nightstick.

Joker leaned his head back and prepared himself for entry of the guard. His thick rough fingers grasped the broken piece of metal from the straitjacket. "I'd like to see that lieutenant Leary." Without much thought, the brash lieutenant sorted through his keys and jammed the key into the lock. Throwing the door open and he raised his nightstick in the air. "Time to shut your insane ass u--" Leary felt a stinging feeling in the back of his neck; a warm flow of liquid running down his back. Joker pulled his arm to Leary's right and slit the back of his neck all the way to its side. Slips of pale thin skin wrapped around the small, yet, thick piece of metal. Leary simply gasped in pain, not knowing what was going on. Blood gushed and Leary fell to his knees and went right into shock, with not even the faintest scream for help. Leary's body began to shake and his eyes rolled in the back of his head; much like someone having a siezure. Joker got on top of him and started mumbling with himself as he pounded Leary's twitching chest with various punches; blood began splattering everywhere around the cell. Even across Joker's tan chest and face, as his scared smile received an all new red tint. Blood was everywhere, adding a more colorful look to the institutionalized white padded walls.

Upon delivering one last devastating blow to Leary's face, the Joker rose to his feet, but not until he had ripped the fair sized piece of metal from the man's motionless body. The sight through Joker's eyes was magnificent. Leary's body had become a bloody grimace. That little spark of life disappearing leaving an inanimate object upon the padded ground. "Just like last week Lieutenant Leary, always leaving me with a smile on my face. Now, if you'd excuse me."

Joker's hands gently unbuttoned his victim's blood-drenched shirt, his fingers turning red as they came into contact with the warm, wet fabric. The shirt was ripped off Leary's body and set upon Joker's tan blood ridden shoulder. Within seconds, Joker was able to pry Leary's pants and shoes off his dead weighted body. The clothes were grimy and heavy from the amount of blood that soaked effortlessly in the cloth. the pants came first; they were rather larger around Joker's thin exterior, but that is where the belt came in handy. Joker ripped the shirt off his shoulder and slid it onto his arms. His thin rough fingers buttoned each button all the way to collar.

When finished he could easily pass for an injured cop. Joker turned back and looked at Leary's lifeless eyes for approval. "What do you think? Does the blue bring out my eyes?" He awaited for any response, but not to his surprise nothing was said. A sigh was released and Joker slowly arranged the dark blue guard's hat upon his head. Turning, his gaze looked deep into Leary's lifeless eyes that seemed to have a look of disapproval still illuminating them. "Everyone's a critic." Joker muttered as he turned on his heel and happily walked out of the padded cell.

Leary's blood still ran down his face as Joker walked out under the fluorescent lights of the hallway. Joker looked up at the security camera, his distorted smile growing to the largest it's been in years. Bringing his bloodstained hand to his face, Joker saluted the camera simply mocking its future viewers. He walked down the hallway, gun in hand and a plan in his mind. With somewhat of a skip of happiness and joy in his step.


End file.
